A Song of Fire & Snow (GOT)(Jon Snow)

Chapter 12- Jon Snow

~The North Remembers~

Jon Snow stood at the edge of the training yard, the crisp morning air biting at his skin. He watched as Alarys moved with a fluid grace that captivated everyone around her. Dressed in a tight-fitting tunic and leather pants that emphasized her lithe figure, she exuded a confidence that belied the chill of the North. Her skin, kissed by the sun of Dorne, glowed against the muted colors of winter, and Jon found himself drawn to the way she stood among his men, a fiery beacon in the dreary landscape.

The Northern guards were gathered for their morning training, but it was clear that the usual banter and competitiveness had shifted to accommodate their new guest. Alarys wielded her twin Dornish swords with precision, a swirl of movement that both impressed and challenged the seasoned warriors. With each sparring session, she disarmed them effortlessly, her laughter ringing through the yard as she offered pointers and encouragement, never once crossing the line to draw blood.

"Watch your stance, Ser Jorren!" she called out to one of the guards, her voice light but commanding. "You leave yourself open to an easy thrust. Hold your ground! Feel the earth beneath your feet."

Jon couldn't help but smile at the sight. Alarys was fierce and down-to-earth, her spirit igniting a camaraderie among the guards that he hadn't seen in a long time. They responded to her with a mix of respect and admiration, and he was surprised to find himself appreciating her more with each passing moment. It was as if she had effortlessly woven herself into the fabric of their lives, bridging the gap between the North and Dorne.

He recalled his own upbringing, the struggles of acceptance and identity he had faced as a bastard in Winterfell. Alarys's presence reminded him of the importance of belonging, of how each warrior sought not just to defend their home but to find a place within it. She seemed to be doing just that, not only gaining the trust of his men but also instilling a sense of pride in their abilities.

After the morning drills, Jon stepped forward to greet her, his heart beating a little faster. He could feel the warmth radiating from her as she finished a session with two of the Northern guards, her laughter mingling with the crisp air. She wiped her brow, the exertion making her glow even more, and looked up, meeting his gaze with a bright smile.

"Care to join us, your grace?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I could use a challenge."

Jon chuckled, trying to hide the flush creeping into his cheeks. "I think my men would appreciate you more as a coach than a sparring partner," he replied, crossing his arms as he observed her with a mixture of admiration and amusement. "You seem to be the one teaching them."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Jon," she said, her voice playful. "I'm sure you can hold your own against even the best of us." She flashed him a grin that sent a thrill through him.

"What do you think, Ser Jorren?" Jon asked, turning to one of the guards who was catching his breath nearby. "Should I risk my dignity and take her on?"

Jorren laughed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "You'd be better off avoiding the fight, my lord. She's more than she appears."

Jon noticed the way Alarys's smile widened at the compliment, and something inside him stirred. He admired how she carried herself, the way she exuded confidence without arrogance. It was refreshing, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to know more about her—not just the fierce warrior but the woman behind it.

Later that day, as the sun began its descent, Jon found himself wandering toward the training yard again. Alarys was practicing with her swords, her movements fluid and powerful. The guards who had initially doubted her now stood in awe of her prowess. She had forged a bond with them that was palpable, a sense of family he hadn't anticipated.

"Care to give it a try?" Alarys called out, noticing Jon's presence. She twirled one of her swords expertly, the blade glinting in the fading light.

"Maybe," he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "I think I'd rather watch you show them how it's done."

"You're afraid you'd embarrass yourself, then?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. The challenge in her tone was unmistakable.

"Not afraid," he countered, stepping closer. "Just cautious about who I fight."

Her laughter filled the yard, a sound he found intoxicating. Jon couldn't help but notice the way her dark hair flowed behind her as she moved, the way her eyes sparkled with determination. She was unlike anyone he had ever met—both a warrior and a diplomat, fierce yet approachable.

The training continued, and Jon remained at the periphery, observing her interact with the guards. She was a natural leader, guiding them with patience, correcting their stances with gentle encouragement. He felt a warmth in his chest watching her connect with his men, her laughter mixing with their own, the lines of division between North and South slowly eroding.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard, Alarys finally stopped, breathing heavily but wearing a satisfied grin. She approached Jon, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"Perhaps you'll join me tomorrow?" she suggested, her tone inviting. "I think I could teach you a thing or two."

Jon met her gaze, and for a moment, he found himself lost in the depths of her dark eyes. "I'll consider it," he replied, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Good. I'll hold you to that." Her smile was infectious, and Jon felt a surge of warmth at the prospect of spending more time with her. She was captivating, a whirlwind of strength and confidence, and he couldn't help but be drawn in.

As Alarys turned to join her guards, he knew that he wanted to learn more about her, not just as a warrior but as a woman with her own story. He felt an unshakeable connection with her, a sense of understanding that transcended the boundaries of their homes.

That night, as he lay in bed, Jon found it impossible to sleep. Thoughts of Alarys swirled through his mind—the way she moved, the sound of her laughter, and the fierce spirit she embodied. He couldn't deny that she was beginning to consume his thoughts, filling the void he had carried for so long.

For the first time in years, he felt a spark of hope, a yearning for something more than duty and survival. And as he closed his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them both—two warriors from different worlds, finding a common ground in the cold North.